


Business Proposition

by aterribleinfluence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I write porn and then think 'BUT THEN WHAT HAPPENED??', Jaha is The Worst in every universe, Lingerie, Modern AU, Porn Without Plot, this was meant to be a one shot PWP but oops I already have multiple other chapters planned, why does this always happen to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aterribleinfluence/pseuds/aterribleinfluence
Summary: Abby smirked a little, and slid her hand down to loose the second button. The crisp white cotton of her shirt parted ever so slightly to reveal a sliver of creamy skin. Then, with unbearable, tantalising slowness, she moved her hand lower to the next button...and the next...and the next...Modern day office AU. Porn with only the barest semblance of plot. Basically an excuse to have Marcus in a suit and Abby in heels and black lace underwear. You’re welcome.





	1. Late Meeting

* * *

 

 

Abby Griffin, thought Marcus, was a problem.

It was a shame really, because as an employee, she was good. Exemplary, even. Not that she was _his_ employee, technically; Marcus Kane worked for Jaha, as did everyone here at Ark, Abby included, but since their illustrious CEO was always either shut up in his office on the top floor or off on some foreign holiday under the guise of a business trip, they all knew who was really running the place. In fact it was generally agreed by most of the people working at the higher levels that if Jaha were ever to die unexpectedly, the general efficiency and productivity of the company might actually _increase_ slightly.

That was due to Marcus, and he knew it – no sense in false modesty. He liked his job and he was _good_ at it; good at making deals, good at motivating others, good at keeping things running even when the unexpected threw a wrench into their plans. For the past ten years, Ark Industries had been booming under his watchful eye and steadying hand. For the past ten years, the company had been relying on him to keep things going.

And for the past two of those years, Marcus had been relying on Abby.

Abby Griffin was his personal assistant. Abby Griffin was 5’3” of stubbornness, fiery determination and absolutely _rigid_ professional ethics. 5’5” when she wore high heels, which she usually only did to important meetings like the one they’d had today. Abby Griffin wasn’t the sort of person who needed to be physically intimidating to hold the attention of a room; she barrelled her way through life getting her own way with sheer force of personality.

She had been a doctor before she came to work for them, Marcus knew, but cited ‘personal reasons’ when anyone asked about the abrupt change of career path. Being PA to the man who essentially ran Ark was no easy task, but even so it had become clear within a matter of weeks that she was vastly over-qualified for the position. She had picked up everything she needed to know with a brisk efficiency; she had a sharp, analytical mind, a work ethic most employers would give their right arm for, and a way of dealing with people that meant she always got what she wanted out of them even as they were completely charmed by her. It had occurred to Marcus that in order to be a good doctor one need a good bedside manner, a steady hand and nerves of steel, which were all coincidentally pretty useful skills for a PA to have as well.

Abby Griffin was an _excellent_ PA, even if she did have a tendency to disagree with him on how things should be done, and wasn’t afraid to tell him so. It hadn’t taken Marcus long to start running ideas past her, even though it was technically well outside her job description; she had become something of his right hand woman and he had made sure her pay reflected that. If nothing else, she was the only person in the company not too intimidated by him to tell him what she really thought.

No, bickering with her wasn’t the problem either. There was something to be said for a healthy difference of opinion, and besides, he quite enjoyed it.

The problem was that Abby Griffin – with her crisp, professional suits and her tight ponytail and her sensible heels – could turn him on more with a raised eyebrow or a smirk than any other woman could do by stripping down and giving him a goddamn lapdance.

_That_ was the problem.

The way she said his name was a problem. The way her lips parted slightly when she was concentrating hard was a problem. Her hand brushing against his when she handed him some paperwork was a problem. Her hair. Her perfume. Her legs when she wore those heels. Or that time she had gotten caught in a rainstorm on the way to work and come into the foyer dripping wet and swearing under her breath, and he had spent all day so goddamn distracted by the image of her sodden shirt clinging transparently to her breasts and the little beads of water rolling down her skin that he hadn’t gotten a lick of work done. _That_ was the problem.

Marcus groaned, slumping back against the black leather of his office couch, resisting the urge to let his eyes close. It was late, he was tired, and he really just wanted to go home. Today had been a good day – they’d finally won the contract they’d been working their asses off for months to get, and he should have been ecstatic. Proud.

Instead he just felt...deflated.

He was always at his happiest when he was working on a project, pushing towards a goal. Now that they had achieved it, and had a chance to rest, Marcus was aware of how hollow his victories often felt. It was a hell of thing to be a man who lived for his work and yet not actually get much genuine satisfaction out of it. He was a successful man by most people’s measure, but he was still sitting here alone in his office on a Friday night, daydreaming about a woman he didn’t have the guts to make a move on because he was too afraid of losing the one person he actually had some kind of decent relationship with.

The was a knock on his door made him jump. “Kane? Are you in there?”

There was no mistaking that voice. “Come in,” he said, straightening up a little as Abby entered. Even though his musings on her had been in the privacy of his own head, he still couldn’t help thinking: _Speak of the devil and he shall appear..._

Marcus had to admit, if the devil looked anything like Abby Griffin, a lot more people would turn to sin. She had a petite, slender frame and exquisite features with arched eyebrows that always made him think of movie stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood. She had dark, bewitching eyes and a soft, expressive mouth that you couldn’t help but imagine kissing. She was wearing the same black heels and slate grey skirt that she had been earlier today, but had removed her jacket to reveal the white shirt tucked neatly into the waistband, and though her hair was still in her customary ponytail, little wisps of it were starting to escape, fluttering round her face as they often did by the end of a long day. It was a look you could see on any number of professional women passing by if you went out walking in the business district at lunchtime, but it didn’t matter – Abby was the kind of woman who would look effortlessly stunning in a burlap sack.

God, _that_ was a mental image that really shouldn’t have been as compelling as it was. He _really_ needed to get laid.

“Are you working late?” said Abby, approaching him blissfully unaware – he hoped at least – of the direction of his thoughts. “I’d have thought you’d be out celebrating.”

“Waiting on a call,” said Marcus ruefully. “I’ve got an international phone conference in forty minutes. We drew the short straw, time-zone wise.”

“It’s not on your schedule.”

“It was last minute. Besides, my schedule isn’t exactly packed at 9pm.”

“You should have told me, I could have rescheduled it for you.”

Marcus couldn’t help but grin. “I bet you could have. But, much though I appreciate the offer, I didn’t want to set you on Byrne. She’s an old friend, and last time she was in England and she got stuck with a call at two in the morning, so I owe her this one.”

Abby conceded with a nod and, to his surprise, sat down on the couch next to him. It was after office hours of course, and they had an informal relationship with each other these days, but still it felt like an oddly intimate thing to do. They rarely got so close to each other physically. She wasn’t touching him but he could still feel the warmth of her body next to his.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he said, to distract himself. “I thought you left hours ago with the others. This isn’t some new ‘I only leave the office when you do’ thing, is it?”

Abby laughed. “You wish, Kane. No, I just forgot something, that’s all. I’ve been out, I’ve celebrated, I’ve returned. I’m afraid a few hours at a bar is about as much as I can stomach, at my age.”

“You did better than me, anyway. I’ve just been sitting here.”

Abby gave him a soft look. “You could have come,” she said.

Marcus just shrugged. He could have gone. He could have gone to the bar with everyone else, and had a few drinks while they all patted each other on the back about their success, and told them all how well they’d done, and pretended for a moment that he was one of them.

But he didn’t. Because he knew that whatever else he was, however much they liked and respected him – and he liked to think that they _did_ – he was still the boss. How could he expect the people who worked for him to cut loose and enjoy themselves with him there? Especially since Ark was a company with a lot of young talent; aside from a few exceptions like Sinclair and Abby herself, Marcus was a good couple of decades older than most of the people who would have been there.

“Raven was talking about doing bodyshots,” he said airily, by way of explanation. “I didn’t want to risk it.”

Abby smiled. “I didn’t see any of that,” she said. “But then, I did leave early.”

_And came back here,_ Marcus thought, but didn’t say it. Nearly 9PM on a Friday night and she didn’t have anywhere better to be or anything better to do, any more than he did.

The sad truth hung unspoken in the air between them: neither of them had anyone waiting at home who would miss them if they got back late. Abby’s husband had passed away shortly before she’d come to work here – some vague tragedy that Marcus hadn’t ever been able to enquire too deeply about – and her daughter Clarke was off at college. She lived alone, just like him.

“Want some company while you wait?” she asked.

Yes. He did. He really badly wanted some company, but the problem was that he didn’t just want anyone’s company, he only wanted _hers._ He wanted her to stay with him right here. He wanted to go out to the bar with her and celebrate. He wanted to take her home with him. He wanted her.

He _wanted_ her.

He really couldn’t fuck his secretary. Job title distinctions aside, it was far too much of a cliché. It was a terrible, terrible abuse of power. It would make things at work hopelessly complicated. It would probably ruin any respect Abby might have for him.

“You should go home,” he said, a little more bluntly than he had intended. “No sense in both of us being stuck here. I’ll fill you in on the call on Monday.”

“You sure you don’t need me?”

_I always need you._

“I’ll be fine.” He turned his head to flash Abby what he hoped was a bland, professional smile. She was giving him a rather odd look.

“Am I being too subtle for you, Kane?” she said suddenly.

“I...what?”

Abby sighed. “Alright then...”

She reached out and cupped his face with her hand, then leaned over the space between them and kissed him, softly, on the cheek. When she drew back, her eyes were searching.

“How about now?” she said.

Marcus felt like his ability to form words had temporarily abandoned him. He gaped at her, sitting on the couch beside him, looking slightly nervous but not breaking his gaze.

“What was that?” he managed, finally.

Abby smiled. “A hint,” she said. “It’s late Marcus, why do you think I’m here?”

“I thought you forgot something?” he said, his voice coming out as little more than an astonished croak. His name on her lips had sounded shockingly intimate, more so even than her lips on his skin.

“I lied.” She glanced down suddenly, a gesture very unlike the Abby her knew, an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation. “If you really want me to go home,” she said quietly, “I will.”

“Don’t go.”

The words left his mouth on instinct without any input from his rational mind, and he cringed at how raw, almost desperate they sounded. But Abby raised her head to look him in the eyes again, and her face had that familiar thoughtful, quietly pleased expression she always wore when she’d gotten him to reveal more than he wanted. The one that meant she could see right through him.

“If you want me to stay,” she said. “Then give me a reason to.”

It was all the invitation Marcus needed, more than he had ever dreamed he would get. He all but lunged across the couch, closing the distance between them, clasping her face in his hands and pressing his lips urgently to hers with more feeling than skill. She tasted so _sweet_ , soft and yielding, her lips parting against his with a little sigh. He was instantly lost in the sensation, all hesitation flying out of the window as he drew her clumsily into his arms, desperate to capture more of her kiss, more of her warmth, just _more._ Abby made a soft little noise of pleasure and swung her leg across his lap without breaking their kiss until she was straddling him, her skirt riding up her legs as she pressed closer.

When they broke apart her face was flushed, and her eyes were dark with desire. Even given what they had just been doing, all Marcus could think was that he had never been so _close_ to her before; he could see her every individual eyelash, the faint scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He could feel her breath against his lips.

“ _Abby_...” he rasped, and he thought he saw for a moment a flicker of some indefinable emotion in her eyes as he said her name. The moment was gone when she reached up and in one swift, deft movement, pulled her hair from its tightly controlled ponytail, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. She looked... _wild_ , astonishingly sensual, with her hair tumbling about her face in honey-brown waves, and her lips rosy and swollen from kissing. He caught a gust of her perfume as she leaned close – _vanilla_ , he thought, _and peaches_ – and then she captured his lips once again.

Hell, if she didn’t want to talk, he could live with that. It was hard to care about consequences or misgivings when her tongue was in his mouth and her legs were wrapped around his.

His hands caressed her legs almost without conscious thought, sliding up her thighs, pushing the material of her skirt higher and higher. Her pantyhose turned out to be stockings that ended – he realised to his dazed delight – in delicate lace garters that he was sure were _wildly_ inappropriate for everyday office wear. He toyed with the tantalizing little scraps of material, tracing his thumbs along the edges where her bare skin began. He could feel her quivering under his touch, but Abby Griffin wasn’t one to sit idly by and let someone else take the lead.

She broke their kiss, pulling away enough to look him in the eye, and brought her hand up to her chest to pop open the top button of her shirt. Marcus swallowed. Hard. His hand tightened on her thighs as his gaze flickered downwards.

Abby smirked a little, and slid her hand down to loose the second button. The crisp white cotton of her shirt parted ever so slightly to reveal a sliver of creamy skin. Then, with unbearable, tantalising slowness, she moved her hand lower to the next button...and the next...and the next...

By the time she got to the last button, Marcus was practically _panting._ Jesus, it been far too long. It was almost humiliating how easily she could hold him transfixed, but he still couldn’t help but let out a groan as her shirt finally fell open to reveal her soft, heaving breasts, the plump swell of them barely contained by a black lace bra.

Abby raised her eyebrows at him, an obvious challenge. She looked a little amused at his reaction, and Marcus couldn’t blame her – he probably had much the same expression he might have if she had hit him over the head with an iron bar.

“I don’t mean to rush you, Kane, but you _do_ have a meeting in half an hour,” she said archly.

The little familiar spark of friendly mockery was enough to shake him out of his daze, and Marcus pulled her close to kiss the smirk off her face before turning his attention lower. He slid the strap of her bra off her shoulder, and then pushed the lacy cup down over the swell of her breast to bare her to him. God, she was _beautiful._ Abby let out a sharp gasp as he bowed his head to take her nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing with his tongue as it stiffened into a tight, rosy peak. She squirmed against him, and when the friction of her movement tore a groan from the back of his throat she smiled and repeated the action more deliberately, pressing her hips forward to rub slowly against him.

She could hardly fail to notice his erection tenting the front of his pants, straining against the fabric. Marcus had thought he was turned on before – hell, to tell the truth he had been hard as a rock from the moment he’d kissed her – but it was nothing, _nothing_ to the urgent, uncontrollable lust coursing through his veins now. He had fantasised about this; he couldn’t even remember how many times he had jerked off in the shower to the thought of her smooth, creamy skin, her perfect little breasts, the way her skirt wrapped tightly around her ass...

Impatience suddenly seized him, and Marcus tugged the shirt down off Abby’s arms, his hands fumbling with the clasp of her bra around her back. She was wearing too much clothing, she _always_ wore too much clothing, and in this moment he had an irrational hatred of anything that stood between his hands and her soft, warm skin. When he had finally flung both shirt and bra aside, however, Abby reached out a hand to press him back into the couch. Naked from the waist up, gloriously unashamed, she smiled at him.

“It looks like I’m going to have to do _everything_ myself,” she said in a tone of gentle admonition, and bent down to unbutton his shirt with much more swiftness than she had done her own.

“It’s a thankless job,” Marcus agreed, his own voice hoarse with desire. Abby’s hands slid under his shirt as she pulled it open, caressing his chest, skimming her fingers down the muscles of his stomach. She leaned into him and her lips joined her hands, roaming across his neck and shoulders, pressing hot little kisses against him, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. Marcus moaned helplessly at the sensation. With her head bowed against him he could see her hair spilling over the bare skin of her shoulders, sweat shimmering on the elegant ridge of her spine.

There was something unbearably sexy in the movement of her back as she lavished kisses across his chest, and the faint rasp of her stockinged legs shifting against his, and the fact that she was still wearing those little black heels, and her lips and her tongue and her hand, oh Jesus her _hand_ —

Abby made a soft little sound of pleasure as she stroked the hard length of his erection through the fabric of his pants. “God, you’re _huge_ ,” she murmured. “I knew you would be.”

Marcus moaned again, unable to stop the sound escaping. The revelation that Abby had given thought to this – that she had actually devoted _time_ to considering the size of his cock – hit his libido like a ton of bricks. He pulled her closer with a rough, urgent movement, until she could _feel_ how desperately he wanted her, his erection pressing hot and hard between them, his hands sliding higher up her thighs as he brought her hips flush with his. He cupped her tight, lovely little ass as best he could given the skirt in the way – _god_ , he was going to rip the fucking thing off her in a minute, and to hell with it.

He caught her lips again and kissed her _hard,_ and Abby responded in kind, fierce and passionate, giving as good as she got. Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping him tightly as they devoured each other. He would have mourned the loss of her hands on his cock, but now she was grinding her hips against him, her movements increasingly rough and frantic, her breath coming in panting little gasps against his lips as her sensitive core rubbed against him through the fabric of her underwear.

It was gloriously, mind-blowingly erotic to watch her use him to get off, but _god_ , if she didn’t stop he was going to come just from this; he was dangerously close to finishing in his clothes like a horny teenager. Even through his clothes, the friction against his stiff, throbbing cock was too much, and with a colossal effort of willpower he tightened his grip on Abby’s hips to still her movements.

She broke away from their fervent kiss with a little noise of disappointment that Marcus tried very hard not to find adorable, but when he slid his hand between her legs her eyes fluttered closed and she gave a soft hum of pleasure, a smile touching her lips as she realised his intent.

The fabric of her underwear was _soaked_ , and he ran a finger lightly up and down against the damp lace a few times, enjoying the hitching of her breath and the way she squirmed in his lap in an effort to increase the pressure of his touch. He traced long, slow circles against her heat, rubbed lightly at the little spot that made her gasp, ran the tip of his finger along the edge of—

“God _damn_ it Kane,” gasped Abby. “Will you just... _ah_...”

She broke off with a moan as he slipped his hand under the fabric and found her clit with unerring precision, stroking the sensitive little bud as it stiffened and twitched under his attentions.

“Like that?” he murmured, as he rubbed his thumb in tight little circles against her slick heat. Abby’s hips jerked against him, her whole body trembling.

“ _Yes,”_ she gasped, her mouth dropping open as she ground desperately against him. “Yes, yes, _yes_... god, don’t stop—”

Marcus had no intention of stopping – in fact he redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with Abby’s breathless whimper of pleasure as he massaged her clit faster and faster. Her hands were clutching at his hair almost painfully now, her breaths coming in sharp little gasps. She was close. Marcus badly wanted to take her breast in his mouth again, but he couldn’t bear to look away from her face; more than anything he wanted, needed, to _see_ her when she came.

“Oh god,” Abby whimpered, her face slack with bliss. “Oh... _oh_...”

It wasn’t easy at this angle, with her pressed against him and quivering, her thighs locked tight around his legs, but Marcus was nothing if not resourceful, and he managed to slip a finger inside her...and another...and press gently just.... _there..._

Abby threw her head back and let out a cry that he was pretty sure would have been heard by anyone on this floor of the building if there were anyone else here. Marcus pumped his fingers firmly as her orgasm shuddered through her body, drawing out the sensation, re-igniting the waves of pleasure with every thrust against her g-spot. She keened and writhed as the muscles deep inside her convulsed around his fingers again and again, until eventually she slumped against him, panting.

Marcus slid his fingers from inside her, and kissed the top of her head where it lay on his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face. His whole body felt pulsing and hot, his cock unbearably stiff and _aching_ , but he’d just brought Abby Griffin to what had looked like a shattering, glorious orgasm, and the giddy thrill of that realisation actually distracted him for a moment from his own urgent need.

Only for a moment.

His smug satisfaction was over the second she rose a little unsteadily to her feet before him, and with an almost businesslike efficiency, pulled her soaked panties and her skirt down her legs and dropped them to the floor.  Marcus had only a few moments to appreciate the sight of Abby Griffin standing before him wearing only stockings, lace garters and high heels before she straddled him again and pressed her lips to his, kissing him fiercely. She reached down and deftly undid the button on his pants and unzipped the fly, pushing his clothes down over the bulge of his erection, and before he could begin to process what was about to happen, she took him in her hand and guided him inside her, sinking down onto him with a soft moan.

“Oh _yeah_ ,” she breathed. He could feel her clenching around his cock in tight little spasms, the aftershocks of her orgasm still not quite faded away. “Oh god, that feels good...”

Marcus didn’t trust himself to speak. He could hardly remember how to breathe. _Christ_ , she was so tight and wet and _twitching_ around his cock, and it was taking all the self control he had not to start thrusting frantically into her.

Abby rolled her hips in an experimental sort of way, and his mind went blank with pleasure. His hands slid down her back to caress the soft curve of her ass, in the way he’d been longing to do for goddamn _months,_ and he let out a fervent moan of satisfaction as he pressed her hips against his.

Abby rocked against him again. “Getting impatient, Kane?” she smirked.

“Marcus,” he gasped. “I think we’ve – oh _god_ – we’ve reached a first name basis, Abby.”

“Alright,” she said. “ _Marcus_.” She kissed him briefly, tugging at his lower lip between her teeth as she started to move with more purpose. Her hands had moved from his hair to brace against his shoulders, and her own hair was a wild, tumbling mane, brushing against his skin with every firm, rolling thrust. Marcus could hear the leather of the couch creaking slightly to their rhythm, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths. His hands clutched at Abby’s back, clinging to her as pleasure swelled to an unbearable pitch, every movement an agony of sweet, glorious friction. Abby was moulded to his body, the soft, plush swell of her breasts pressed against his chest, her hips rocking with firm, undulating movements as she slowly, sensuously _fucked_ him.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he moaned. “Abby, please...”

“Oh, we’ve got a good twenty minutes until your next appointment, Marcus,” Abby said, her voice low and husky. “There’s no rush.”

“I’m not going to last twenty _seconds_ ,” Marcus growled. “I’m...oh _fuck_ Abby, I’m so close...”

She leaned down and kissed him, and it was that more than anything – that tenderness, the proof of her astonishing, miraculous desire for _him_ that he had never dared imagine – that sent him over the edge. Marcus heard, as if from a great distance, the desperate, feral moan that tore from his throat as he finally burst inside her, hips thrusting up urgently with every hard, intensely pleasurable pulse. He came harder than he could remember in his whole life, and when the brilliant ecstasy of the moment faded he drifted back into reality to find Abby caressing his face, running her hands gently through his hair as he came back down to earth.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Even the meaningless exchange seemed like a terribly intimate thing, under the circumstances. Marcus reached out to cradle her sweet face in his hand as she was doing to him, tracing the sweep of her cheekbone with his thumb. For a long moment they simply looked at each other, unsure what happened next.

“You should get ready for your meeting,” said Abby quietly, a hint of smile in her eyes.

“Right.” Marcus couldn’t think of anything in the world he cared less about right now than his damn phone conference, but Abby was already sliding off him carefully and straightening up. He missed the warm weight of her as soon as it was gone, but did his best to shake off his desire to simply drag her back into his arms, instead moving to pull his clothes back on. He didn’t feel capable of much right now, but he could at least do that. He’d have to clean up properly in the washroom later.

Meanwhile, Abby was already moving toward the door. She had retrieved her clothes from where they’d been strewn across the floor and held them in her arms, pressed against her bare chest in a strange mockery of modesty as she turned back to look at him. She was still wearing her stockings and high heels – she hadn’t removed them the entire time, Marcus realised, and for some reason that fact struck him as so incredibly sexy he felt his breath catch in his throat for a moment.

Abby glanced at the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes to spare,” she said, with the merest hint of a smirk. “Don’t forget to fill me in on Monday.”

Marcus grinned, still half lost in post-sex euphoria. “I thought I already fil—”

“Don’t push your luck, Kane,” said Abby. There was amusement in her voice, but something else too, a slight edge that surprised him. She smiled, and Marcus thought perhaps he had imagined it.

“I’ll see you on Monday then,” he said.

Abby hesitated, nodded, and left, still holding her clothes. Presumably she intended to stop off at the washroom on her way out to get herself in a fit state to travel home. Marcus hoped it wasn’t a long journey – if she was anything like as exhausted as he was right now, she would want to be able to collapse into bed as soon as possible. If only he could do the same.

His meeting was in fifteen minutes.

However, it was only five minutes after Abby had left that Marcus thought:

_Oh god._

_What have I done?_


	2. Out Of Hours

Abby Griffin had a problem.

She had done something incredibly stupid. Reckless and impulsive and so, _so_ stupid. She had gone against every bit of common sense she had clung onto throughout her career, throughout her _lifetime_. She had thrown everything into chaos. She had broken the most important rule of being a professional woman in a career dominated by men:

She had slept with her boss.

But no, why mince words? ‘Slept with’ implied some kind of intent, foresight, or at the very least a bed. What Abby had done was _fuck_ her boss, in his office no less, and once the initial post-orgasmic glow had worn off she had been wrestling with an increasing dismay growing in the pit of her stomach. They hadn’t even used protection – though Kane was aware from conversations they’d had that children hadn’t been a possibility for her since Clarke, and Abby knew from managing every detail of his life including his doctor’s appointments that he had a clean bill of health...she was fairly certain neither of them had actually been thinking of any of that in the heat of the moment. She had practically climbed on top of the man without a second thought. God, what must he _think_ of her?

She had thrown everything she had worked for out of the window, all for the sake of one good fuck.

One _incredibly_ good fuck. God. When she closed her eyes she could still almost feel him inside her, hear his rough moans as she rode him. She had come fast and hard against his hand – the first really _good_ orgasm she’d had in longer than she cared to remember – and she had come a second time, quietly and unexpectedly, as he finally released inside her, although she was pretty sure Marcus was so far gone by that point he hadn’t even noticed.

Marcus. Or should it be Kane, still? He was both and he was neither to her now, and as a result the last two weeks had been hell. Pure torture.

She had come in on Monday morning with shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep and a stomach that felt like it was full of writhing snakes. Even walking into her office, passing by the others and greeting them as she always did, she had been irrationally convinced that they would be able to tell what she’d done. And Kane...well, she had spent most of the weekend trying to figure out the best way to deal with what had happened, and hadn’t come up with a good answer even by then. Should she brush it off as a stupid mistake, and casually ask him not to mention it to anyone? Should she sit him down and seriously talk through how important it was to her that one evening’s indiscretion would not change anything about their professional relationship? Should she tell him that her feelings for him went _far_ beyond the bounds of the professional in a way that scared the hell out of her and that they had done for months now, that she dreamed of his arms around her every night and that the way he said her name even in the most innocent of contexts always made a shiver go down her spine?

Probably not that last one.

In the end, she had done nothing, and neither had he. They had greeted each other as usual and gone about the business of the day, albeit a little awkwardly. The next day had been the same, and the next. To anyone else working at Ark things looked as if they were the same as ever, but Abby could feel the invisible wall that now lay between her and Kane, a carefully maintained distance where none had been before. It had been two weeks now, and in all that time he had been very careful not to touch her, even to take a cup of coffee from her hand or brush past her in a doorway.

It had been two weeks, and she could barely meet his eyes.

And now she was here at the damn office again on another damn Friday night, only now she was surrounded by people and wearing a dress she had been regretting all evening, because this was the _official_ unofficial celebration for the contract they’d won. At least going out to the bar with Raven and the others had been fun, but this was torture. Everyone was dressed up as if they were in some fancy ballroom rather than a high-rise office building, the buffet was terrible, and the place was overheated and heaving with people she barely knew from other branches of the company. Even the wine was so cheap Abby hadn’t been tempted to more than one glass. She wished she could go home.

“You see, the thing you have to remember about climate change,” said the man next to her, “is that the Earth has _always_ gone through periods of cooling and warming. It’s natural, and we’ve been living in a little ice age for some time now, we’re due to warm up a bit.”

Oh, and to top it all off there was _this_ guy. His conversation appeared to have moved on to climate change now, on his seemingly inexhaustible list of controversial topics that he felt were appropriate to proselytise about to a complete stranger at an office party. He had already worked through healthcare, gay marriage and feminism, three topics on which Abby in fact had extremely strong views, none of which _she_ cared to share with this asshole.

“What these scientists fail to understand,” the man was saying, “is that the so called ‘global warming’ effect is really little more than...”

Abby tuned him out again. She had no idea who he was, and was now feeling quite grateful she hadn’t bothered to catch his name. The guy had attached himself to her early on and seemed disinclined to leave. Abby also wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to her breasts, as the man himself couldn’t seem to make up his mind, his gaze moving fairly frequently between them and her face. In truth, the only reason she had let him stay with her this long was because he seemed perfectly capable and happy to supply both halves of their conversation himself, which left her free to nod and smile at appropriate intervals without actually having to listen.

It allowed her to sink into her own private misery, and focus on not looking at Kane where he stood across the room, and wishing – dreading – that he would glance over at her, in the way he had been stealing quick furtive glances at her for the past two weeks whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

Abby sighed. Before, when Marcus Kane had looked at her, he had made her feel sometimes as though he could see right through her. He had an intensity of gaze that was hard to dismiss, and whether he was arguing with her face to face or just catching her eye across the room, there had always been something magnetic about it...a kind of tension between them, drawing her in...

She had _liked_ it, the way he looked at her. Abby was already the wrong side of forty, she had a daughter who was nearly an adult herself, and she was under no illusions as to her romantic prospects as a workaholic, widowed single mother. But Kane – _Marcus_ – he had made her feel not only respected and appreciated for her talents, but _desirable._

God, no wonder he was so good at securing contracts, at closing deals. With his dark, intense eyes and his warm, persuasive voice, it wasn’t any wonder people ended up giving him whatever he wanted. And when what he wanted was _you_...how was any woman supposed to resist that?

He had wanted her. After being married for nearly twenty years, Abby’s instincts when it came to that sort of thing were a little rusty, but she would have had to be blind _and_ stupid not to notice that fact. He had wanted her and she had wanted him, and she had done the incredibly dumb thing of thinking it could all be that simple. And yes, she’d had a drink that night, and she had been riding the high of their victory, and she had been...lonely. And Marcus Kane had looked at her in that way that he did and she had been unable to resist any longer. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

_Now_ when he looked at her...

Unthinking, her eyes sought him out across the room, and locked with his. And there it was; the thoughtful, inscrutable expression, the slight frown, as though Abby were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

Then his eyes flicked downwards, almost imperceptibly, skimming over the curves of her body, taking in the low cut of her neckline, the figure hugging silhouette of her crimson dress. Abby felt a blush flare on her cheeks and turned away abruptly.

“What was that?” she said to the man next to her, interrupting him mid flow. “I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

“I was _saying_ ,” he said, his eyes drifting downwards to her cleavage again in an uncomfortable echo of Kane’s gaze, “that the problem is scientists always want to find _us_ in every problem – their scaremongering is really egoism by another name; a way of feeling morally superior to those they brand as being ‘not in the know’ because they want to feel as if they alone hold the knowledge of how to save us.”

“But _you_ know better, right?” said Abby.

The man smiled widely, completely missing the irony in her voice. “The resources are all there if one has the will to look for them,” he said. “I could point you to several websites that—”

“Excuse me.”

Even if Abby hadn’t recognised Kane’s voice, she would have known it was him. There wasn’t another person on earth who could put so much coldness into two simple words. She turned her head a little to see that he had appeared just behind her, the expression on his face enough to create their own little ice age right there in the middle of a hot, crowded room. The man talking to her actually took a step back, apparently without thinking.

“I need to talk to my colleague for a moment,” said Kane. He didn’t even glance at Abby but put his hand on the small of her back, an unmistakably possessive gesture. The strange man’s wandering eyes flicked between the two of them for a moment, obviously trying to assess the situation and coming up short.

“Of course,” he said with a forced smile. “Another time, Ms Griffin. It was wonderful to meet you.”

Abby couldn’t honestly say the same, so she just forced a smile of her own and allowed herself to be guided through the busy room by Kane, his hand like a brand on her back, burning through the silk of her dress. He steered her into a quiet, dimly lit corner by a table covered in abandoned half full wine glasses, and turned to face her, finally removing his hand. Abby felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at the loss of contact, but Kane hardly seemed to notice.

“You have to talk to me,” he said.

The tone of command in his voice made Abby bristle, taking refuge in her familiar exasperation at such typical Marcus Kane high-handedness.

“Do I?” she said, focusing firmly on his shirt collar instead of his face. She didn’t dare risk looking into his eyes. “We haven’t got anything booked on your schedule.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye Abby, but it’s not like you to be childish.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” said Abby, genuinely stung. “I’m sure this will come as a shock to you but maybe you don’t, in fact, know _everything,_ Kane.”

“It’s not like you to be cruel, either.”

“ _Cruel?”_ Abby almost laughed. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You don’t think it’s a bit cruel to give a guy the best sex of his life and then ignore him for weeks without any explanation?”

There was a long, heavy silence.

“I haven’t ignored you,” said Abby, her cheeks burning, her eyes darting around to ensure no-one was nearby enough to hear them. “I’ve come into work every day.”

“And you haven’t looked me in the eye once,” said Marcus bluntly. “You’re not even looking at me now. _Please,_ Abby.”

She finally looked up at him with great reluctance, and was surprised at what she saw – not just the few days worth of stubble on his face, but the tiredness in his eyes, an almost defeated look. It was really unfair, how _good_ he looked even so.

“Just tell me what it is you want from me,” he said quietly. “If you want to pretend it never happened, we can do that. If you want me to transfer you somewhere else—”

“No!” The word came out without her permission, and louder than she had intended. A couple of nearby heads turned. Marcus waited until they had looked away again before replying, his face a picture of restraint.

“Then _what?_ ” he said. “I don’t...I don’t _expect_ anything from you, Abby, you have to know that. What I mean is that I don’t have any...I’m not trying to...”

“Fuck me again?” finished Abby, with no particular emotion.

To her surprise, Marcus actually blushed. “Yes,” he said. “I mean no. I just want you _back,_ Abby. The way things were before.”

Abby was surprised at the almost pleading tone in his voice. He looked desperate, and she realised for the first time that perhaps she hadn’t been the only one panicking about how to handle the situation between them.

“Things can’t be like they were before,” she said quietly, and then before he had a chance to respond, she reached out and took his hand, as unobtrusive a gesture as she could risk here. “But I’m not going anywhere, Marcus,” she said. “I promise.”

Marcus let out a sigh, and his shoulders visibly slumped in relief. “You don’t hate me?” he said.

This time Abby did laugh, as much from surprise as anything. “For what?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Marcus, looking a little sheepish. “It just seemed like you did.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about this sooner, I just...wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what you would say.”

Abby ran her thumb in little circles against his hand, feeling her own tension drain from her in the face of his uncertainty. “What did you think I might say?” she asked.

“That it was a terrible mistake,” Marcus replied. “That you regretted what happened and blamed me for _letting_ it happen, and that you never wanted to see me again.”

“None of those things are true.”

He stepped a little closer. “You’re sure?”

“I’m really sure.” Abby felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “So...the best sex of your life, huh?” she said.

“Yes,” said Marcus. The reply came without a trace of hesitation or embarrassment, and Abby felt a hot swirl of desire in the pit of her stomach as she looked into his dark, intense gaze.

“It _was_ pretty good,” she admitted.

“It was _incredible_. I haven’t thought of anything else since.”

Abby bit her lip, now unable to stop the smile that spread across her face. They were now only inches apart, and though she hoped no-one was watching them, she wasn’t sure she really cared any longer.

“You know what?” she said, her voice low and soft. “I think we can do better.”

“Then what the hell are we still doing here?” said Marcus, his voice coming out at something approaching a growl.

“I thought you didn’t want to have me again?” said Abby teasingly, raising her eyebrows.

“I said I wasn’t trying to,” said Marcus. “I didn’t say I didn’t _want_ to.”

Abby squeezed his hand and then dropped it abruptly. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered.

Unfortunately the exit was at the other end of the room, through the crowds of bored, slightly tipsy colleagues and strangers alike, mingling uncomfortably with each other. As they wove their way through the room, they did attract a few thoughtful looks from people they knew – Abby very carefully pretended not to notice Raven’s meaningful wink, or the sight of Jasper cheerfully taking what looked like a few ten dollar bills from a glum looking Sinclair. It was ridiculous really. Just because she and Marcus were leaving a little early, and happened to be leaving together, didn’t necessarily mean...

Alright, so in this case it meant _exactly_ that, but still.

When they finally escaped into the empty corridors of the building, the music of the party fading behind them, Marcus took a deep, theatrical breath of air.

“Freedom,” he said, turning to Abby and grinning. She felt her heart squeeze a little in her chest. He looked so...happy. She couldn’t help but smile in return, gesturing back towards the way they had come.

“Everyone here is going to think...” she started.

“Everyone here is going think we’re sneaking out for a drunken office party hook-up,” said Marcus, starting to walk with some eagerness towards the elevator that would take them down to the foyer.

“Aren’t we?” said Abby, as she followed him.

That made him stop in his tracks, and he turned to face her suddenly. “Is that what you think this is?” he said, his eyes searching her face in that intent, penetrating way he had. “Is that what you _want_ this to be?”

He was giving her an out, she realised. A chance to change her mind, or justify this to herself in any way she wanted. But Abby knew Marcus Kane better than anyone, and she could see, even where anyone else might have missed it, the tension in his posture, the uncertain edge to his voice. He was nervous, she realised. He didn’t know what she wanted and it bothered him.

“I want you,” she said simply, and walked into the elevator, waiting patiently for him to join her. He did after only a moment more of hesitation, pressing the button for the lowest level as the doors slid closed.

“So where exactly are we going?” said Abby

“My place,” said Marcus. “If you—if that’s what you want.”

He looked nervous now, as if worried about having misread the situation.

“Is it what _you_ want?” said Abby carefully.

“I want _you_ ,” said Marcus. “But...I don’t just want you in my office like some casual fling.” His eyes didn’t leave hers as he spoke with a low intensity. “I want you _slow_ , Abby. I want you naked in my arms and in my bed, I want to have you again and again, I want to make love to you until we’re so goddamn exhausted just the idea of _leaving_ the bed is impossible. That’s what I want.”

It was astonishing how seductive the man could be even in a brightly lit elevator with tinny muzak playing softly in the background. Abby bit her lip against the flush of warmth that spread through her body, hardly daring to ask the next question. “And then what?” she said.

She half expected a flippant answer, or an innuendo, but Marcus seemed to understand what she was really asking immediately. His face softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek with one hand briefly. It was an unexpectedly tender gesture, and she felt her heart skip in her chest.

“Then...I’d like to take you out to dinner, if you’ll let me,” he said.

Abby couldn’t help but smile at his hesitance again, making itself known at such an odd time. “You know, traditionally these things are done the other way around,” she said dryly.

“We’ve never been very good at sticking to convention, you and I,” said Marcus.

“You fucked your secretary,” said Abby. “ _That’s_ pretty conventional.”

Marcus flashed her a wry smile. “As I recall, it was the other way around,” he said. “And you’re not _just_ my secretary. Or my PA. You’re more than that, you always have been.”

The elevator had reached the foyer; they both stepped out into the empty space, only dimly lit at this time of night. The fake marble floor stretched out before them, broken only by the empty reception desk and a few fake potted plants, ultimately leading to the big plate glass doors that would allow them escape to the outside world. The night outside looked deliciously enticing after the hot, overcrowded office party – dark and cool, lit with the orange glow of streetlights and the swish of passing cars, their headlights sweeping across the floor of the foyer in irregular intervals.

They had only taken a few steps out into the room when Marcus stopped and turned to take her by the shoulders gently.

“I can’t do this again if you don’t know that,” he said, his voice suddenly low and earnest. His eyes were very dark, his face half in shadow and half in light. “I need you to understand. Being with you...it was so good _because_ it was you. It’s always been you, Abby.”

Abby couldn’t help herself – she leaned up and kissed him, pressing her lips softly to his, because she couldn’t stand the thought of not doing so for a moment longer. Marcus melted a little into the kiss, his hands still gripping her shoulders tightly, as if it were a terrible effort for him not to pull her close.

When she drew back, Abby smiled at him. “I understand,” she said. “But I can’t have this conversation now, Marcus. Not here. Not yet.” She kissed him again, feather-light, and then brushed her lips against his jaw, pressing little kisses against the new rasp of his stubble. She thought she felt him shiver against her. “I want you too badly,” she whispered against his skin. “I can’t think of anything else right now. Please, Marcus. Take me home.”

Whatever careful self restraint he had been holding onto until that point snapped – in an instant he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her fiercely to his chest as he captured her lips, her head tilting back with the force of his kiss. Abby moaned softly into his mouth and he gripped her tighter, his hands sliding over the crimson silk of her dress. They stumbled a little together, lost in the fierce pleasure of their embrace, and Abby felt her back hit the wall next to the elevator, Marcus pinning her against the cool, hard surface.

“What happened to going back to your place?” gasped Abby, as he bent his head to kiss down her neck.

“In a minute,” mumbled Marcus, intent on the skin of her bare shoulder. Abby clutched at his back, her eyes closing in bliss at the exquisite sensation. She should have felt nervous at being in such an exposed place where someone could technically walk in at any moment, but Marcus was so solid and firm against her, covering her with his body, one arm still wrapped around her waist, and all she could think was how good it felt to be held like this, to be _wanted_ like this. His free hand slid down her body to stroke her silk clad thigh, and she automatically hitched her leg up around his hip, letting the material of her dress rise up to expose her bare skin. Marcus made a soft rumble of pleasure in the back of his throat, and clasped her leg to him tightly, his warm, broad hand caressing her thigh.

He lifted his head to look her in the eyes, breathing hard. “This dress,” he murmured, “has been driving me crazy all night.”

“Take me home then, and you can take it off,” said Abby. She squirmed against him to make her point, and perhaps made it a little _too_ well, because Marcus’ eyes suddenly widened, and the hand not currently occupied with creeping up her leg slid down the silk of her waist to tentatively explore the curve of her hip, where the thin material clung to her. It took a moment for Abby to realise what he was feeling for, and a further moment for Marcus to realise that he wasn’t going to find it.

“Fuck, Abby,” he groaned. “Are you naked under that dress?”

“We’re all naked under our clothes, Kane,” said Abby archly. “I’m just a little more so than most people.” She hitched her leg a little tighter around his hip as his hand slid higher up her thigh, very _very_ close to where she wanted it. “My friend Callie said if I wore anything under this dress, the seam would ruin the drape of the fabric.”

“I like your friend Callie,” said Marcus fervently. “I’m going to send your friend Callie a bottle of champagne and a fruit basket.”

Abby giggled breathlessly. “We need to call a cab, Marcus,” she said, in an attempt at reason. “We can’t do this here.”

“God, every time you say my name...you have no idea what it does to me...”

Pressed up against him as she was, Abby actually had a pretty _definite_ idea of what it was doing to him, but she thought it best not to point this out. Instead she had come to the realisation that – as was so often the case at work – she was going to have to be the one to point out the flaw in Marcus’ plans and rein him in from getting ahead of himself.

She released her hold on his back and placed her hands on his chest instead, pushing him gently away.

“ _Cab_ , Marcus,” she said firmly, in much the same tone that she used to remind him to eat during the middle of a busy day, or patiently explained to him why the timeframe he had set out for some project was unfeasible. “You promised me a bed, remember?”

Marcus took a step back and let out a deep breath, running his hand shakily through his hair. “Sorry,” he said. “I got a little carried away. I just...” He smiled ruefully. “I missed you. So much.”

Abby felt a sharp tug in her chest, a feeling that had nothing to do with desire, and everything to do with the soft gratitude in his eyes when he looked at her. This was how he’d done it, she knew; how he’d so thoroughly seduced her even without meaning to, how he’d turned her into a person who would come back to the office late at night and throw herself at her boss even knowing what it might mean for her later. It was that irresistible quality of Marcus Kane, the combination of strength and vulnerability that had taken her the best part of two years together to figure out. The way he could seem so serious and commanding and effortlessly in control, and then soften into someone different when they were alone, someone thoughtful and mild and unexpectedly tender, with his wry sense of humour and his loyalty to his work and his colleagues, and the way he looked at her...

_Don’t go_ ; that was what he had said to her that night, and it had sounded almost like a plea. It was that moment she had realised that what Marcus wanted from her wasn’t just her body. It was that moment it had finally hit her that he might be as lonely as she was.

“I missed you too,” Abby said softly, and she took his hand for the second time in the evening, and started to lead him across the foyer towards the outside world.

_Tomorrow_ , she thought. Tomorrow they would have to talk, tomorrow they would have to work out what this thing between them really was, and what they could do about it. Tomorrow would be fraught with complications.

Tonight she just _needed_ him. And he needed her. Tonight neither of them would be have to be alone.


	3. Counterpoint

The cab ride took about ten minutes, and felt like ten hours.

Marcus sat as close to Abby in the backseat as decency would allow, and she couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious at what the cab driver must think, as though this stranger could somehow read the relationship between the two of them just by looking. As if he cared.

Marcus, by contrast, hardly seemed to notice the man driving them. For someone who saw Abby pretty much all day every day at work, he really couldn’t seem to keep his eyes – or his _hands_ – off her now. He kept casting her looks out of the corner of his eye, as though reminding himself that she was really there. His hand was resting lightly on her leg, thumb stroking her in a gentle, unconscious way through the silk of her dress. It was incredibly distracting. Abby could feel the anticipation between them like a physical presence, heat crackling in the air.

Last time had been a spur-of-the-moment thing; a wild, reckless act of release. This was different. They were going back to his place together. They both knew how this went. Last time had been something they’d both wanted, of course, but this time they’d put it into words.

_It’s always been you, Abby._

When they arrived at their destination, Marcus leapt out of the cab and opened the door for her, offering his hand to help her out, as though they were on a formal date, rather than...whatever this was. Abby had to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling, feeling a little giddy with nerves. She had to concentrate to stop from stumbling in her heels with eagerness as they went inside, Marcus nodding casually to the doorman’s carefully blank expression.

The apartment block was the most expensive looking building in the most expensive part of town. Marcus lived on the top floor, of course. The elevator ride took an eternity, and Abby started to wonder if somehow time was slowing down deliberately, stretching out the tension in every cell of her body to an unbearable pitch. She wanted to say something, or for Marcus to say something to her, but the journey since their urgent fumbling in the foyer had been in silence, and she felt in some absurd way that to speak might break the spell they were under.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the elevator stopped with a soft chime and Marcus said:

“This is me.”

They walked together across a small entrance room and Marcus keyed a number into a pad to open the door opposite and lead her into the penthouse apartment. There was a brief moment of darkness before he pressed some switch beside the door and soft light flooded the room, letting Abby take in her surroundings.

She tried not to gape.

His place was _huge_. It was strange, because Marcus Kane was someone she had known so well for a while now, she sometimes forgot _what_ he was – an extremely successful and correspondingly wealthy man. It made Abby feel unaccountably shy suddenly; this reminder of _Kane_ as opposed to Marcus.

The walls were covered in vast windows, showing a staggeringly beautiful view over the city, a thousand little lights twinkling in the dark, the chaotic sounds of night-time muted by glass to a soft hum. Inside, the place looked like something out of the pages of a magazine; polished hardwood floors, glass tabletops and designer furniture, elegantly curved couches in soft, dove-grey leather and artfully scattered cushions. There were a few touches here and there that indicated a real person lived here – an old fashioned vinyl record player in one corner with an armchair nearby that looked better used than any of the rest of the furniture, a selection of carefully tended bonsai trees that spoke to a hobby Abby hadn’t been aware of, a colourful patchwork quilt neatly folded over the back of one couch that looked handmade and incongruous to the rest of the muted tones of the room. She drank in the details greedily, trying to find the man she knew in all the overwhelming luxury.

Forgetting for a moment why she was here, Abby walked slowly over to the kitchen, Marcus following her wordlessly, stopping only to take off his suit jacket and drape it casually over the back of a chair. The kitchen was exactly the kind she would have expected someone like him to have – all sleek chrome fittings and granite countertops, and a fridge that looked like it could probably read you the morning newspapers if you asked. The expensive looking coffee machine on the counter looked like the only part of it that was regularly used. Abby knew for a fact that Marcus always ordered in lunch from the sandwich shop down the road from the office, and that he usually worked late and got something to eat in the evenings on the way back from work. As for breakfast – she didn’t know. It was somewhat comforting to know that there was at least one little part of this man’s life that was still a complete mystery to her.

She turned back to him and saw the look of slightly anxious anticipation on his face.

“This place is amazing,” she said sincerely.

“Thank you.” He still looked nervous, as though the eager certainty of earlier had melted away in the face of her entering his private space. It occurred to Abby that he might not often bring people back here. She didn’t know if he had other...

But no, she couldn’t think like that, not tonight.

_It’s always been you, Abby._

“Would you like a drink?” Marcus asked.

“Sure, what do you have?”

He winced. “Just...water, actually. And orange juice. Sorry, I’m not really a big drinker at home.”

 “Water would be lovely.”

To her amusement, he actually poured it into a wine glass to hand to her, and then another for himself. His lips quirked wryly as he raised his glass to chink gently against hers in a wordless toast. His eyes crinkled a little at the edges when he smiled, and Abby followed the motion of his throat as he took a swallow of water, and – just like that – he was _Marcus_ again, and the knot of tension in her stomach loosened. She took a grateful sip of her own water and then set it on the counter beside her, leaning back against the cool granite, and tilted her head to the side with a smile.

“So what happens now?” she said, a touch of irreverence in her voice.

Marcus set down his own glass and regarded her thoughtfully. “Now...” he said, “I tell you how beautiful you look. I would have said it earlier – I mean if everything was how it used to be between us. But I wanted to say it now. You’re beautiful, Abby.”

“Thank you,” said Abby, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. She was unsure of how to deal with this new, unashamedly honest Marcus Kane, who looked at her as though she were some rare and exotic creature he had managed to capture in his kitchen and was afraid of scaring away. In an attempt at lightness she added: “Callie’s dress strikes again.”

Marcus smiled. “I wasn’t talking about the dress.”

Abby felt a smile creep across her own lips. “Mmm, that was a pretty good line,” she admitted.

Marcus moved closer to her, until he was standing barely a breath away. He reached out a hand to brush a wisp of hair, real or imagined, from her face.

“I can promise you no-one _else_ at that party was looking at the dress either,” he said. “You have no idea what torture it was to have to stand there and watch that bastard Cage Wallace leer at you all night.”

“Oh, you’d rather have exclusive leering rights, I take it?”

“I don’t leer.” He paused at the amused look on her face. “I...might _gaze_ sometimes,” he said defensively. “In a respectful way. And I try not to.”

Abby laughed. “It’s okay, I kind of like it. From you, I mean. _He_ was a creep.”

Marcus frowned. “I wanted to tear his smug face off for looking at you like that,” he muttered.

“You know I can take care of myself.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to beat him to a pulp.” Abby felt her breath catch in her throat, a shameful, irrational thrill of pleasure running through her at the possessiveness of his words. Marcus caught her reaction and misread it. “Sorry,” he said. “I wouldn’t have, not really. I was just...”

“Jealous?” suggested Abby slyly.

 “ _Yes_ ,” he murmured. His arm reached out suddenly and curled around the taut silk of her waist. Abby shivered, allowing herself to be drawn closer. “You were talking to him,” Marcus said. “And you weren’t talking to me.”

Abby slid her hand up his chest to rest on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, looking up at him, “I was only talking to him to avoid talking to you.”

“Why?”

She echoed his words from earlier. “Maybe I was afraid of what you’d say.”

Marcus was so close to her now, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. His eyes were dark and searching, gazing down into hers. “And what do you _want_ me to say?” he murmured, his voice soft.

“Right now I don’t need you to say anything,” Abby whispered, and then they were kissing, deeply, passionately. Her hands slid up to tangle into his hair as she moulded her body against his and they melted blissfully into each other, lips meeting again and again in sweet, perfect understanding.

Abby could feel the glowing embers of desire deep inside her flaring back into life as Marcus pressed her back against the edge of the smooth countertop with the eagerness of their kiss. She gasped as he tore his lips from hers for a moment and took her by the waist, lifting her apparently effortlessly to perch on the cool granite so that they were suddenly of a height, face to face and both panting.

“God, you taste incredible,” breathed Marcus, his eyes dark, his hands caressing her waist. “I had no idea...”

Abby pulled his mouth back to hers, wrapping her legs around his hips, dragging him closer, the fabric of her dress rustling as it was hitched up her thighs. Her shoes clattered to the floor, unheeded. All she wanted to do was kiss him, kiss him, kiss him until everything else melted away, to be closer to him than anything, to feel every part of his body against hers...

She reached down to his hand at her waist and slid it gently but firmly up her body to rest over the swell of her breast, too impatient for subtlety. Marcus moaned into their kiss, his hand instinctively kneading the soft, yielding flesh through the smooth silk of her dress. He was already growing hard against her, and when she rolled her hips against him his whole body jerked, a raw, needy sound issuing from his throat. Abby tugged at his lower lip with her teeth, teasing, feeling powerful, feral. To hell with the bed, this was happening here, _now_. When they broke apart and she looked into his eyes she knew Marcus had realised the same thing. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hair tousled from her hands, and Abby felt a fierce rush of arousal to see him so dishevelled, his cool professional facade entirely torn away. Marcus Kane, de facto head of Ark Industries, one of the most powerful men in the city, and he was utterly vulnerable before her.

“I’ve had two weeks thinking about how good it felt to be with you,” he said hoarsely. “Two weeks thinking about how much I need you, not knowing if you felt the same. If any part of you doesn’t want this, Abby, I need to know. Because _...god_ I can’t do this again if I’m wrong. I can’t survive that.” His eyes searched hers desperately. “I need to know that you want this as much as I do.”

“I do,” Abby said, her voice soft and aching with desire. “I want you, Marcus. I’ve _always_ wanted you.”

“Not just tonight?”

“Not just tonight. Not just when I’ve had wine, or when I’m feeling lonely, or when you’re dressed up in a nice suit.” She popped open his crisp, white collar with deft fingers and dipped her head to kiss his neck just below his jawline. She could feel his pulse pounding beneath his skin, the faint roughness of stubble against her lips. “I want you all the time,” she murmured. “ _All_ the time. Just sitting with you in your office while you dictate notes, or watching you talk at a meeting...”

She pulled back a little to meet his eyes. “Or even,” she said softly, “when I’m in a bar surrounded by other people, every single one of them drunk and celebrating and having a great time, and all I can think of is that you’re not there.” She allowed herself a small smile, perhaps at her own expense, an acknowledgement of a weakness she had fought so hard against and failed.

“It’s always been you, Marcus,” she said.

Whatever he saw in her eyes or heard in her voice, it was enough to convince him, because he leaned in and captured her lips again fiercely, all trace of hesitation gone. The kiss was hard, urgent, and the _heat_ between them was growing unbearable. Abby slid her hands down to start unbuttoning his shirt, a task made more difficult by the fact that Marcus was apparently very unwilling to stop kissing her for more time than was absolutely necessary. When she had finally pulled the damn thing off and flung it to the floor, she gave him a playful push and leaned back a little, bracing herself against the counter while keeping him firmly within the circle of her legs. She hadn’t had nearly enough opportunity to look at him properly last time, and now she was determined to drink her fill.

God, he was _absurdly_ handsome; with the kind of lean, muscular body that should be found on the cover of some tawdry romance novel, not under the suit of a successful middle-aged businessman. _They_ were supposed to be pale and paunchy, not tall and broad shouldered, with dark, smouldering eyes. That was another ridiculous romance novel phrase, it wasn’t supposed to apply to _real_ people, but as Marcus looked at her she could swear his eyes were burning through her skin, setting her alight from the inside. The heat spread through every part of her body, making her squirm with pleasurable anticipation.

“That dress,” he said, his voice low and almost predatory as his eyes raked over her, “has to come off.”

“I thought you liked my dress?” said Abby, smirking. “Anyway, it was very difficult to get into, it might take _hours_ to take off. It’s not for the fainthearted, believe me.”

Marcus made a noise of pure frustration in the back of his throat, reached round her back with a swift movement and—

The silk rent with a lush tearing sound, and the remnants of the dress pooled around her waist. Abby inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin, shocked, amused and undeniably aroused in equal measure.

“Marcus, this dress cost five hundred dollars!”

 “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, between pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

“You don’t think that will look a little suspici— _ah_...” Abby gasped as his mouth found her breasts, his lips closing around one stiff, sensitive nipple. She felt her back arch into his touch and decided to forget about the damn dress. She was intensely aware of every sensation; the rustle of silk, the cool granite of the counter against her bare skin, the flexing of muscle beneath her hands as she clutched at his shoulders, the _realness_ of the moment exquisite and overwhelming in its intensity. She was burning everywhere his lips touched her, everywhere his hands caressed her, at once greedy, possessive and indescribably tender. Her own hands fumbled at the fastening of his pants with more eagerness than finesse as he hitched the pooled silk of her dress high around her hips, and she was squirming in his arms, murmuring a litany of _yes...yes...please...yes_...and then finally, _finally_ he was inside her.

_Marcus_. For so long he had been nothing but a guilty fantasy to her, and now he was so present, so _real_ , hot and hungry and panting with restraint. His eyes held hers. God, had she ever been so close to another person?

“Abby...” he whispered, and it was almost a plea.

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, and he _moved_ , and the cry that fell from her lips was so raw and frantic that Marcus stilled, obviously worried he’d done something wrong.

“No, no, no don’t _stop_.” Abby kissed him clumsily, framing his face in trembling hands, urging him on. “Don’t stop,” she repeated breathlessly. “That’s so good just like that. That’s so... _oh_...”

She threw her head back and moaned as he pushed into her again, slower this time, driving deep. Then he pulled out a little just to thrust back in, _hard._

_“Fuck,”_ gasped Abby, lights flashing before her eyes, the muscles deep in her body squeezing and pulsing around his cock. Marcus let out a fervent groan, whether at the sensation or because her swearing turned him on, she couldn’t be sure. She suspected a bit of both. He started to move his hips faster, pounding into her in a relentless rhythm, holding Abby tightly as she bucked and whimpered with pleasure against him. He wanted her and she _let_ herself be wanted, he was _taking_ her and she let herself be taken. Her mistake before had been thinking of the consequences, not realising that this _was_ a consequence, a consequence of both of them, of this thing between them that they had both been denying for too long...

His hand slid beneath her crumpled dress to touch her, to press and rub against her slick heat in a way that was almost desperate, swelling the tension inside her to an unbearable pitch. Abby’s hand flung out behind her, scrabbled in a vain attempt to brace herself against the countertop, but their urgent movement allowed her no purchase, so she clung to Marcus more tightly, letting him bear her weight as he fucked her fiercely, letting her head drop against his shoulder, a panting, ragged cry of ecstasy falling from her lips with every thrust.

_“Yes...”_ she gasped. “Yes, yes...oh Marcus...”

“ _Abby—_ ”

...and she _broke_ with a wild, breathless cry as her body soared into shattering bliss. Somewhere in the haze she was aware of Marcus letting out a rough groan of relief as he came with a final thrust of his hips, his arms gripping her tightly.

They clung to each other in the afterglow, bodies heaving with sharp, staccato breaths, hearts pounding. Abby’s legs relaxed their grip; she felt shaky and elated, her whole body suffused with pleasure. She was very likely going to have bruises tomorrow from the hard granite countertop, but right in this moment she didn’t give a damn.

Marcus tilted her face upwards and captured her lips in a soft, lazy kiss. When they broke apart she couldn’t help but smile at his expression; the look of drowsy, stunned happiness spread over his face. He looked like a man caught in a dream. Aside from his discarded shirt, Abby realised he was still half-dressed, right down to his shoes. Her own crimson silk cocktail dress was a ruin, crumpled around her waist. They seemed to be set on making a habit of being too eager to pause long enough to take all their clothes off, and suddenly the fact struck her as incredibly funny. They were acting more like horny teenagers on prom night than two mature, responsible adults well into middle age. She bit her lip to stop herself from giggling.

Marcus caught some of her mood and let out a soft breath of laughter of his own, dropping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. There they stayed for a few minutes, nuzzling each other affectionately, panting and giddy in post-orgasmic euphoria.

“I guess we didn’t make it as far as the bed after all,” Abby said, grinning.

“Mmm, you’re right,” said Marcus. “We’ll just have to do better next time.”

With one swift movement he pulled her close and actually picked her up, hefting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all and striding through his apartment to the bedroom.


End file.
